________________

Bank Crash

& Heritage Day
      
I Don’t Wash Windows … I Whack 'em

by Karen Lanthier (née Daily)
aka karebear

November 15, 1995

Well, I’ll have to fill you in later about my previous years, but I must write about yesterday while it’s still fresh in my mind.
  
I couldn’t find my debit card so I had to go to the bank to get a new one.  There was nobody around to accompany me, and being quite independent, I struck off on my own. The bank is only a short distance away and the trip there was uneventful.

Getting into the bank is always a chore or a challenge, depending on how you look at things.  There was activity at the bank this time because I arrived during business hours and there were many people inside to help me with the doors.  I must say here, how kind people are when they see me coming on my electric scooter.  There is always a bright smile and a cheery comment that comes my way, along with their generous offer of assistance.

I digress.  Anyway, I get into the bank and tend to my business.  Then I moved off to the side to put things back into my purse, the debit card miraculously reappearing, and readied myself to continue with my errands.  It was cold outside so I donned my toque and put on my purple “thinsulate” gloves, preparing myself to face the elements.

Noticing my intention to leave the bank, an unknown man left his place at the end of the line to assist me getting through the double doors.  Now, you have to keep in mind that my scooter was set on the fastest speed, and I was wearing my rather bulky “thinsulate” gloves.  I got through the first set of doors fine.  The kind gentleman was trying to hold the first set of doors open, while stretching to open the outer doors.  “Thwack.”  In my attempt to negotiate the scooter without running over any toes and trying to rush, I went full-speed ahead and hit the partially opened outer door and smashed it.

My first reaction was “CRAP.”  A young fellow came bustling out from the back of the bank to assure me that it was okay and not to worry about it.  My response was, “I am going to worry about it.  You’re going to have to board up that window until the glass is replaced.”  Perhaps he thought I might worry that I would have to pay for the repair.  Not likely!  Anyway, after much reassurance, I told the fellow that maybe NOW they would reconsider installing an automatic door.

Upon retelling the events of the day, I was congratulated for doing my part to gain a more barrier-free banking institution.  Upon leaving the drive-through bank, I continued on to my next victim.  The Supercentre.

Mine is a dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it!

Part II

Another beautiful day in the neighborhood.  Three of us on scooters and our trusty friend on foot attended Heritage Day festivities in Richmond Hill today.  It was a lovely day uptown filled with plenty of food, displays of arts and crafts right on the main street of town, and the longest street in the world.  We all enjoyed the day away from our apartments.  We were in the company of friends, some we have known and some that we met while out for the day.

On the way home we traveled streets that were not too busy so we could chat to one another uninterrupted by traffic.  We all decided to meet for supper at my place a little later. Our troupe broke up as I headed for the bank to refuel with cash.

Now, the bank has always been a tricky place to enter because there are no automatic doors.  There is very small ramp and a narrow sidewalk to negotiate, but I am usually stubborn, and determined to get myself in there without any help.  So, here I go!  I've done this before, so I knew what had to be done.  The most important step to remember is turn down the speed right off the bat; and get the scooter gently into position so that I can open the door far enough so that when I back down the ramp, I can reach out with my foot to hold the door open.  #%^&!  I had reversed too quickly and lost my grip on the door handle.  Done that before too.  So, I'll try it again.  It usually works.  Put her in forward and…. The scooter leapt forward and made contact with the glass of the door.  Oh  $*&#@%!  Ken, the bank manager, is going to kill me.  I smashed the door AGAIN.

I got out of there quickly after I made a withdrawal from the machine.  It was a hit-and-run.  The last time I broke the door, I was on my way out, and I had witnesses.  Not this time!   Saturday afternoon and nobody was around to fink me out to the cops.  I was waiting to hear sirens coming after me in a high-speed chase but there were only the sounds birds chirping and kids playing. 
 
Hmmmm.    What will I do, what will I do????

Got it!  Phone Jackie.  Jackie is my cousin who works in upper management at the bank.  She”ll know what to do.  So I called Jackie but there was no answer.  The next best thing I could think of was to call the instabank number and confess to my crime, and let them know where there was a glass door that needed some maintenance work.  So I did that but when they asked for my name, I was more than a little hesitant to give it, but I did anyway.  I can't tell a lie.  I have a heck of a conscience.  If the police show up at my door to demand my scooter, they may get a blast of obscenities.  I already had to give up my driver’s license because they had no sense of humor.  This would be an even bigger blow to my already deflated ego.

While I was busy confessing, my cousin Jackie had called me back courtesy of Bell Telephone's technology and told me to call her back again.  I did, and she asked me what was up.  I told her what had just transpired at the bank.  She asked if it was the same bank door that I had previously creamed.  My reply was ”yes” and we both broke up laughing.  I asked her to suggest to whomever, that an automatic door was badly needed at this branch.  She agreed, because as a shareholder, she was getting smaller dividends on her investments because of me.

Blood may be thicker than water, but not when money is involved.

p.s.  In 1999 the bank finally installed automatic doors.  In the meantime, they did give me free computer banking as a courtesy.  In reality, I’m sure it was just a nice way of telling me to stay the hell away from the bank.
 
p.p.s.  I haven’t had any more escapades at the bank, but as of 2003 the entire business has moved to another mall that is a little further away, and more inconvenient to get to, BUT it is easier to enter and exit.  The bank has also installed automatic doors.  I suppose those automatic doors were cheaper in the long run than repairing the glass on a regular basis.

In closing I’m taking a bow to a grateful disabled community.  I’m sure there would be a standing ovation for me if only we could stand up and get off our asses. 
 
 Gotta love it!                                   

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